Civil Disobedience
by KylieAyn
Summary: The newsie world is rocked when the greedy newspaper giants increase distribution prices during the slow post-war summer of 1899. The gang, including newsgirls Anna and Kate, must organize the child workers of New York City in order to get the rights and respect they deserve. Strike-compliant, Jack/Sarah, David/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** It's been a long time since I've worked on any fanfiction, but I'm hoping if I finally upload this chapter then I'll write again. Not gonna lie, this is 100% a self-insert friend-fiction. To be honest I've gotten over the shame of writing fanfics like this, because it's just fun and I like it. And - always a plus - it's good practice, especially with dialogue since that's forever my hangup. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I hope that I update soon LOL.

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 **Chapter One**

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In 1899, the streets of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst, and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner they could be heard carrying the banner, bringing the news for a penny a pape. The newsies were a ragged army of poor orphans and run-aways, about twelve-hundred boys and girls strong, hawking papers across the sprawling metropolis.

The borough of Manhattan had about forty newsies pushing the _New York World_ , most of whom resided at the Newsboy Lodging House full-time, unable or unwilling to live at a family home. Nearly a hundred boys stayed there for six cents a week, and one girl for twelve.

Kate Jakob, also known as Kentucky, paid double the rent and promised assistance around the Lodging House to be granted special permission from the superintendent, Kloppman, to live with her fellow newsies for as long as she needed. Of course, by "live with" he meant "stay in the same building" – she was forbidden to be in the boys' bunkrooms on the second and third floors, and was instead given her own small room down the hall from Kloppman's quarters on the first floor. While there were several options of girls' lodging houses around the borough, most were very restricting towards their "proper young ladies," which Kentucky was certainly and decidedly not, if even just for preferring her newsie trousers over her school skirt.

This mid-July morning began the same as any other. Kloppman raps on Kentucky's door to wake her, then ascends the stairs to wake the boys. Despite rising later than their newsgirl friend, the boys are always ready and bounding out the door by the time she can even rake out all the knots in her long brown hair.

The newsboys are already receiving their free daily breakfast from the charity-nuns when Kentucky exits their crusty home to meet up with her best friend, Anna Ridgeland, a.k.a. Georgia.

Being from the South was not the only commonality between the two girls, though it did help. Kentucky had moved to New York nine years ago with her mother following devastating tornados in Louisville. Ms. Jakob found work as a governess for an affluent family in the Lower East Side, but an unwed woman in that position ought not to have a daughter, so Kentucky sought an income and accommodations that wouldn't expose her mother. Newsies weren't known for having stable home lives, if they had a family at all, so no one questioned her vague explanations.

Georgia was the only one who knew the truth about Kentucky's situation, when they befriended one another at school. They each attended a public high school uptown three days a week, and bonded over their love of reading, scholastic ambition, and Southern roots. Georgia's family had moved to New York from Atlanta because her mother worked for the J.P. Morgan & Company bankers, and they all loved to travel. Her father was a Civil War veteran so didn't work, and her little brother Adam attended school full-time. Their family lived in Chelsea, but often Georgia would spend the night at Kentucky's after a long day of work (or long night of partying). The two girls spend nearly every day together, at school or selling papers or just hanging out with their boys.

"Hey girlie, how'd ya sleep?" Kentucky greets, linking arms with her red-blonde friend and walking down the familiar brown streets.

Georgia hands Kentucky a piece of bread and butter from home, allowing them to skip the nuns and head straight for work. "On my side," she quips, winking from behind squared cat-eye glasses and cracking up her companion. "Ugh, what a shitty headline," Georgia groans as the two finally round Greeley Square to the _World_ distribution center, staring up at the giant chalkboard announcing the morning's news.

Kentucky nods absently as she watches Jack "Cowboy" Kelly, leader of the Manhattan newsie population and close friend of Georgia's, finish ritually antagonizing the slimy distribution center workers, the Delancey brothers, Oscar and Morris. She makes eye contact with Morris, the infinitesimally smarter brother, for a second, adjusting her black bowler hat with a smirk, then turns away. "Let's go get in line. I don't wanna be near the end."

The two girls appear nearly indistinguishable from the other newsies, save for their longer hair and, mostly in Georgia's case, figures. They step into the disorganized line behind Snoddy and Swifty the Rake, exchanging greetings with them and the others and discussing personal news and triumphs, as teens will do. Over an echo of Jack's _perusal_ , Racetrack's voice and the swipe of a match can be heard, and Kentucky's ears perk up.

"Mornin' your honor! Listen, do me a favor an' spot me fifty papes, huh? I got a hot tip on the fourth. You won't waste your money."

"It's a sure thing?" Mr. Weisel replies.

"Oh yeah, not like last time," Race assures. At Weisel's doubting pause, he adds, "Kentucky's goin' with me."

"Ah, uh huh. Fifty papes! Next!"

Shuffling off with his papers, Racetrack glances back into the line to roll his eyes at his best friend, who responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins and Kentucky had been instant friends, close as siblings, ever since her arrival in the city. Known for his gambling, his interest was immediately piqued when he learned she was from the same city as the annual Derby horse race, and that she was just as invested in horse bets – she was especially good at it, even, knowing so much about horses growing up around them. They regularly went to Sheepshead together to score extra cash on the races, and would often sell their papes together when he wasn't hawking in Brooklyn.

Georgia giggles at the two's familiar exchange before getting distracted by an unfamiliar voice.

"Twenty papes, please. Thanks," the unknown speaker asks at the window. Georgia stands on her tiptoes, trying to see around the mass of newsies. "I paid for twenty. I only got nineteen," the voice continues. A snicker falls over the crowd, and through the throng Georgia catches a glimpse of dark, capped curls and a brown vest over a blue shirt. Jack strides up, using the miscount as another reason to make fun of Morris Delancey, and the mystery boy turns to look at him, giving Georgia a clear profile view. _He's pretty cute_ , she thinks, lips quirking.

The girls finally make it to the front of the line, Kentucky buying fifty papes and Georgia seventy. They stand on the outskirts of the circle gathering and watch as Jack and the other boy, learned to be David, strike up a partnership. Kentucky sidles closer, taking the space Jake the Oyster just slid out of, to observe the newcomer and his little brother. Louis "Kid Blink" Ballett, Kentucky's close friend and nicknamed for the patch over his left eye, throws his arm around her shoulders and tugs playfully on her suspenders. Her smile at him turns into laughing at David's refusal to spit-shake. The little kid, Les, whips around at the sudden sound of girlish laughter, and blushes when she winks down at him.

The rambunctious group shadows Jack out into the street, causing Les to lose sight of the newsgirl until the crowd's disbursement. She walks south, accompanied by Race and Georgia, all waving papers above their heads and shouting out the headlines. David pulls on Les's sleeve to get him to follow with Jack.

"Cowboy!" Les cries, running to keep pace with the older boy.

"Yeah, kid?"

"There are girl newsies?"

Jack does a double-take, not expecting such a question, before laughing. "Of course there're goil newsies. Mosta dem are liddle, like you, but a few olda ones still carry the banner. We got two of 'em with us," Jack informs the brothers. "Which one you see?"

"She had brown hair and a black hat. She winked at me," Les describes. David blinks dumbly, not having seen any winking newsgirls himself.

Jack laughs, "Yeah, that's Kentucky. She's a cheeky one. She sells near da Lower East Side wit Race, then they go to Sheepshead. Kentucky's from Louisville, where they have da Derby, so she's a pro at horse betting. Plus one of da best liars I've eva known. You look out fa that one, Les, don't let her go breakin' ya heart," he jokes.

"And the other girl?" David interjects.

"Georgia, also named for where she's from. Now dat's a classy doll. She sells in East Village wit Crutchy, or wit Kentucky. Performs, too. Now _her,_ ya'd _pray_ to have a chance for her to break ya heart."

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"Hey girl, that was my last pape. I'm heading to Medda's. I'll see you later," Georgia calls out. Kentucky nods at her friend, shouting for her to be safe and have fun. The red-blonde waves her acquiesce and bustles her way to Irving Hall.

A couple days every week or so, Georgia would perform at Irving Hall after her paper load was finished. She was a more soulful singer, but had the perfect moves for the Vaudeville stage. Sometimes she would even make her own costumes, with Kentucky's help at the alterations shop the latter girl worked at some weekdays. The theatre-owner and ragingly beautiful "Swedish Meadowlark," Medda Larkson, had been mentoring Georgia for about a year and a half, so many newsies would come see their acts whenever they had enough cents to treat themselves.

This day's set is going particularly well. Georgia loved getting into character, all made-up and dressed to the nines, exuding a natural risqué attitude that would only invite trouble on the street. Hair curled and piled atop her head, her un-bespectacled and painted face is framed by lush, pinned tendrils. A navy and black striped corset cinches her waist, clinging low into a skirt that barely covers her nylon-donned derriere. There is a fair crowd, some of the more enthusiastic front-rowers making grabs for her boots.

Suddenly Georgia can hear Medda's voice behind the audience's hollers. _What on earth is happening backstage?_ she wonders, trying to finish her act as nonchalantly as possible. Her music finally ends and she practically sprints stage-left.

"Oh, you are good. Oh yes, this kid is really good. Speaking as one professional to another, I'd say you have a great future," Medda's sugary accent carries from downstairs.

"You're not tryin' to replace me already, are you Medda?" Georgia exclaims from the top of the dusty steps, fanning hand to chest dramatically. The group below turns to the girl, Medda and Jack smiling and the Jacobs' just staring perplexed.

"Of course not, darling! Though maybe you could use a little gentleman in your act," Medda teases, pinching Les's cheeks adoringly. He blushes.

"Ya sounded great out there," Jack compliments, offering his hand as Georgia descended the stairs.

"Thanks, Cowboy. What are you doing here? Y'all are usually never here to see my midday show."

The boys grimace. "There's just a little problem outside." He turns to Medda. "Is it alright if we stay here for a little while, just until it goes away?"

"Sure, stay as long as you like. Toby," Medda catches the attention of the passing concessions vendor, "just give my guests whatever they want."

The announcer calls for Medda's set, so she bids farewell to the kids and saunters onstage. The newsies, sans a candy-collecting Les, follow quickly, watching the Vaudevillian from the side. Or rather, Jack watches Medda while David and Georgia half-watch each other.

"I'm Georgia," she whispers, outstretching her hand to shake.

David's eyes widen as he accepts the gesture. "You're Georgia?"

"Oh no, what'd Jack say about me?"

He laughs under his breath, taking a second to gaze at Medda before turning back to an equally entranced Georgia. "Only good things, I promise. I'm David."

Georgia smiles at him, trying to quell the butterflies starting to flitter in her gut. Their conversation dims from there, too enraptured in Medda's performance. When it finally ends, they all clap and cheer. The star has to take care of some business afterwards, so tells Georgia that she can go home for the day and for the boys to come back soon.

"Youse wanna come back with us, Belle?" Jack offers as the girl heads to her dressing room. Georgia chortles at the nickname, agreeing to join them after she changes back into normal clothes.

"Is Belle her real name?" Les asks, licorice hanging out of his mouth and more in his hand.

"Nah, it's a play on her bein' from da South – a Southern belle, ya know? Her real name's Anna," Jack clarifies. He turns to David, "So, you like the show?"

"Oh, I loved it. It was great. She's beautiful—" at Jack's saucy look, David quickly corrects, "Medda's beautiful. How do you know her?"

Jack purses his grinning lips, unconvinced but willing to play along. "She's a friend of me fadder's." He seems like he might've said more, but is interrupted by Georgia's return.

All the makeup is washed from her face and she dons glasses again. Her hair is let loose, though still retains the bouncy curls under her dark cap. She's just finished tossing her maroon scarf around her neck when she rejoins the boys. David gawks at the typical newsie-wear, finding it hard to believe that this is the same girl from minutes ago.

"Ready to go?" She pipes, leading the way out into the street. Jack climbs up on a shoeshine station situated just outside the theatre doors and asks if Les wants to shine his shoes.

David frowns up at the blackened sky. "It's getting late. My parents are going to be worried. What about yours?"

"Oh, I stay out all the time. My folks won't be concerned," Georgia shrugs.

"Mine are out west lookin' for a place to live. Like this," Jack pulls a book out of his back pocket. "See, that's Santa Fe, New Mexico. As soon as they find the right ranch, they're gonna send for me."

"Then you'll be a real cowboy!" Les exclaims. Jack agrees with a chuckle, ignoring the hard glance Georgia sends him.

A loud crash echoes through the night. Jack immediately jumps up and rockets towards the sounds of mayhem, the others running a few paces behind. They have to duck around a racing firetruck, a huge inferno building where trolley strikers fight. A man starts to get soaked right in front of them, Jack mimicking the punches.

"Jack! Why don't we go to my place and divvy up? You guys can meet my folks," David offers, uncomfortable with the violence raging around them. "Let's get out of here," he insists when Jack brushes him off.

"Jack, time to go," Georgia growls, pulling him further back onto the sidewalk and away from the brawlers.

"So, maybe we'll have a good headline tomorrow," he grins, shrugging at his friends' discomfort. He notices Les snoozing on a bench. "Look at this! He slept the whole way through it." He throws the younger boy over his shoulder and allows David to lead them away from the scene.

They finally arrive at the Jacobs home, and Mrs. Jacobs cries out at the sight of her son unconscious in the arms of a strange boy. David assures his mother that Les is only asleep and presents his day's earnings to his father before introducing the newsies.

"This is our selling partner, and our friend, Jack Kelly. And this is Anna, she's also a newsie. Jack, Anna, this is my parents. And that's my sister, Sarah."

Jack and Georgia greet the couple and daughter politely. Georgia notices that Jack and Sarah's gazes linger, so tries to hide a growing smirk. Her friend wasn't one of the (many) womanizers in the newsie ranks, but that doesn't mean he wasn't a huge flirt. This Sarah was possibly in for quite a wooing, and Georgia couldn't wait to watch it unfold.

"Esther, maybe David's friends would like to join us for dinner. Why don't you add some more water to the soup?" Mr. Jacobs kisses his wife on the cheek, and she scolds him playfully.

The six have a lovely dinner together. Jack is _mostly_ only his best behavior, but the connection brewing between him and Sarah was obvious to everyone at the table. Georgia had to distract the rest of the family a few times so the two could make eyes at one another. Of course, Georgia sometimes had to kick Jack under the table to keep him in line even then, and steal Sarah's conversation. The two girls found they liked each other quite well, and after dinner Sarah assured Georgia that her parents also liked her.

"I didn't know that there are newsgirls too. Are there many?" Sarah asks her as they help clear the dishes.

"Not tons, no," Georgia replies. "Usually there're only littler girls, and half the time they dress up like little boys, since it's not a typical job for girls, and not always the safest either. There're only a handful of girls my age still carryin' the banner. The leader of the Queens newsies is a girl, a year older than me. She'll probably be retiring soon though."

"What does a newsie do when they 'retire'?"

"Well, the boys usually get grown-up jobs – at factories, or go into the newspaper industry, or other things. Younger kids, boys and girls, who leave the newsies usually go into factories or other specialized jobs, like deliveries or laundry or apprenticeships. If a girl ages out of the newsies though, then usually one of two things happen: she either gets married and starts a family, or she doesn't end up in a respectable way…sometimes once you start on the street, you don't leave workin' on the street, ya know what I mean?" She watches Sarah dip her gaze and pale a little bit, so she tries to steer away from that idea, "Cupcake, I mean Amaya, that Queens leader, she's gonna get married. She met this reporter guy, and wants to have like ten kids. And me and my best friend, Kentucky – sorry, Kate – want to go to college."

Sarah started, surprised but pleased. "To study what?"

"I want to travel, so anything that will let me do that," Georgia sighs with a smile, her mind wandering to faraway countries and cultures she's yet to explore. She catches sight of the cowboy novel that always sticks out of Jack's back pocket as he talks on the fire escape with David; they share the dream of Santa Fe and have talked about meeting up in the West together sometime in the future, and wonders if Sarah would be on board for his "retirement plan."

The Jacobs parents call their children in for the night, and Jack and Georgia decline David and Sarah's offers to spend the night.

"You gonna come spend the night at the Lodgin' House, or you goin' home?" Jack asks Georgia on their way down from the Jacobs'.

"Nah, I should get home," Georgia smiles, waving as she turns toward the route to Chelsea and starts on her way.

"Hey!" Jack calls, catching up to her. She turns and waits for him. "You knows I ain't lettin' you walk home alone."

While she wasn't uncomfortable travelling the city by herself at night, she wasn't going to refuse Jack's company either. She wraps her arm in his and leads them toward her neighborhood. Better safe than sorry, she figures. Plus… "So, Sarah's pretty, you reckon?"

Jack barks a laugh, saddling her with a warm sideways glare. "She's alright."

Georgia returns the guffaw. "You are so obvious, Cowboy. But, I mean, so was she." She catches Jack's ears turning red. "Oh c'mon, Jack, y'all were flirting so hard I thought David's folks were gonna commit her to a nunnery."

The newsboy couldn't control his facial muscles his glee was so strong. He couldn't pretend he wasn't attracted to David's sister. He hadn't felt this way about a girl in a long time; he flirted with girls frequently, and hooked up with one every so often – he _was_ a teenage boy after all – but all were harmless dalliances. He'd never properly courted a girl before, but something about Sarah made him want to try.

"You think she'd go for a street rat like me?" He quirks his mouth into a half-smile, but the vulnerability is palpable.

Georgia stops them on the sidewalk, staring down his insecurity. "Jack Kelly, don't you ever say such a bonehead thing to me again. You're a great catch and she's clearly smitten with you. She's a normal girl, not a royal dame. Plus," she smirks, "I think she might could have more spunk than you're givin' her credit for."

This lifts Jack's spirits some, and they make pleasant conversation about their friends and lives for the rest of the walk. Georgia told him how her little brother, Adam, who loved all her newsie friends, was getting interested in engineering but was also starting to get in some trouble under the influence of his highbrow school chums. She asks Jack if he'd give him a talking to since Adam looked up to the newsboy so much. He agreed, joking that he might corrupt the younger boy further. She can't decide whether to laugh or smack him, when they finally arrive outside the north Chelsea apartment the Ridgeland family occupied. Georgia hugs him goodnight. "Thanks for the company, Cowboy. I'll tell Adam 'hi' for you. Get home safe."

Jack's façade drops as soon as the newsgirl is out of sight. The newsies are his family, but it's families like David's and Georgia's that he secretly craves. He laments and denies and sings the praises of Santa Fe his whole way home.

"Heya Race," Jack greets, walking up the steps of the Lodging House with the shorter boy. "How was your day at the track?"

"Rememba that hot tip I told you about? Kentucky left before she could tell the horse."

"Again? That's like the third time this month," Jack pats his friend on the back as they head inside.

From around the building's corner, Kentucky burns bright red at letting Race down again. Scrubbing the flush away with her hands, she lets her fingers slide lower to her neck and pulls her collar up to hide the red and purple circles lining her jugular. _I am a horrible, horrible friend_ , she groans. She chainsmokes three cigarettes before she finally speeds inside.

At first she thinks that only Kloppman sees her sneak in, but half way down the hall she's suddenly got a newsie on each shoulder. Blink and Swifty the Rake each beam mischievously down at her.

"Say Duchess," Blink starts, using the lovingly teasing nickname her favorite boys dubbed her, "Some of us are gonna slip out afta' curfew for a jolly lil get-togetha in Hell's Kitchen—"

"—and it would be a damn shame if we didn't bring a single totty to da joint, 'specially one fine as—oof!" Swifty eats his butter-up with a sharp elbow to the chest from Kentucky.

"Muttonheads." She rolls her eyes at them, but their charming smiles and the notion of booze are too tempting. "Fine! I'll meet y'all outside at 10:30. If you're late or leave without me, you can bet your cute asses Kloppman'll have you out in the street by mornin'."

The boys laugh at her usual threat, knowing by now that she would never snitch on any of the newsies. They release her from under their arms and agree to her terms. She escapes to her room, checking the time to see how long she has to get ready. The small clock on her dresser reads quarter til ten o'clock, fifteen minutes before the Lodging House curfew time. If the boys are sneaking out, that means that they didn't expect to be back by midnight, so the curfew pass would be useless.

It doesn't take her long to prepare herself – hardly anyone in their station in life had an extensive wardrobe; it was considered a wealth of clothing that she had four complete outfits at her disposal: two for working (one with trousers and one with a skirt), one that was casual but an "appropriate" look for a young lady, and one that was fancy for special occasions like visiting her mother. She quickly bathes, then changes into a clean blouse and reapplies the kohl on her eyes. Steadfastly ignoring the bowler hat on her dresser, she dabs some colored powder over her throat. She pins the top of her hair away but lets the rest fall over her shoulders, doing the rest of the cover-job.

Kentucky is tip-toeing out the back door of the Lodging House at the same time as Swifty, Skittery, and Boots, and when they walk around to the front, Jack, Race, Blink, Bumlets, and Snoddy are already waiting. The group greet each other in whispers and enthusiastic pats, then get going. The trip to Hell's Kitchen doesn't take long, but the developing area was still a little sketchy to traverse. For the past several years it was becoming known as a warehouse district, and had a growing Irish community. While in the more residential area, the newsies try to keep quieter, but once tenements fall away to industrial complexes, they grow rowdier.

The gathering is already about forty kids and street urchins strong, pulling in people from all over Manhattan. Newsies, factory workers, dealers, delivery boys, warehouse and dock workers, stable hands, call-girls, laundry washers, bums, grunts and assistants of all sorts laugh, drink, gamble, and socialize together. Besides Jack, two other borough's newsie leaders are there: Malcom "Coco" Morcant from the Bronx and Josiah "The Beard" Fergus from Staten Island. Apparently Coco organized the party, but the Manhattan venue was compliments of his boyfriend who works for the shipping company of the warehouse they're in.

Upon seeing The Beard, and to avoid Racetrack out of guilt, Kentucky immediately looks around for another Staten Island boy, a musician named Charlie. He and Georgia had been on-and-off for close to four years now, right now currently being their off season, and Kentucky had befriended him through her. She finally spots him standing over a game of toss-penny that some younger kids are playing.

"Hey Charlie!" She gives him a hug. "Have you seen Anna?" When talking to non-newsies, she usually switches to real names for ease.

"Evening, Kate. No, not yet. Wouldn't she have come with you?" He replies, scratching his stubble as he rescans the room for their girl.

Kentucky frowns. "I guess she went home for the night after her show. Give me a holler though if you see she comes 'round?"

Charlie agrees and she leaves him to the game, heading over to a group of girls sitting and drinking around poker on a shipping crate. She recognizes most of them: a couple factory girl friends of Georgia's, a mutual friend Danielle who worked at a boutique, and Kentucky's call-girl friend Eliza. Between the four of them, most of New York's gossip was known and spread. Kentucky had long suspected at least Eliza to be one of Spot Conlon's, newsie King of Brooklyn, "birds," who feed him information from all around the city.

"Duchess!" Eliza drunkenly stumbles into her friend. "Who is that dashin' lil rube you newsies got sellin' with Cowboy Kelly?"

Kentucky's brow furrowed before finally realizing that she meant that new boy from this morning. "Uh, David I think? He just started today, an' I haven't really met him."

This answer is apparently insufficient, so Eliza calls out for Jack to join them. "Cowboyyy! How you likin' David?"

Quite unlike his usual buoyant self, Jack sidles slowly over the girls. Kid Blink, Boots, and Race follow, also wanting to hear more about the new kid. Race brings a second bottle over for Kentucky, and Blink swings her onto his lap as the newsboys take seats around the crate. One of the factory girls deals them all in.

"He did alright for his first day. Showed him da ropes, he sold nineteen papes—" the newsies all cackle at the irony, "—then we went to Medda's an' he made mushy eyes at Georgia." He doesn't mention his own flirtations. "His lil brudda Les, though, knockout. Got a quarta for drinkin' a beer, and Medda wanted to put him on stage." He brags like Les was his own little brother, and the quarter story has everyone rolling. Boots wins the round. "We saw da trolley strikas fightin' and startin' a fire, so we should have a good banner in da mornin'."

"I just don't see how they think a strike is gonna work? I mean, there's so many people looking for work. I'd get replaced in three minutes, tops," Danielle laments, passing out a fresh hand of cards to everyone.

"Then youse just gotta make sure you're irreplaceable," Race smirks. He lights up a fresh cigar and goes all in. Boots, the factory girls, Danielle, and Blink all fold, but Jack and Kentucky both call bluff. Race fixes them with a glare and waves his cigar accusatorily, "I swear! Why do I even keep you two around, huh? You're killin' me!" He whines as Jack scores the pot, pulling in the assortment of coins, cigarettes, a pocket knife, and one whole dollar bill. Eliza shuffles the deck for another go; Jack ducks out with his winnings, joining Coco and The Beard for some business talk across the room. Race is determined to get some money back, however, and demands they play a different game.

"Those are cute," Blink whispers to Kentucky, wagging his eyebrows at her neck. She hadn't even noticed her hair had swept, and blushes. "Hey hon, no shame, no shame," he teases. Kentucky knocks back the rest of her drink and steals Blink's too. "Oh, some shame? No worries, hayseed, we can cover dem up nice an' good." He winks dramatically, the only way he can with just one visible eye.

Everyone's night gets fuzzy as they laugh and drink together, and the Manhattan newsies end up staggering into the Lodging House past one o'clock in the morning. Swifty and Bumlets had each gone home with laundry girls that had been at the warehouse; Jack carries a passed-out Boots over his shoulder, and Skittery repeatedly shushes Racetrack for singing. Snoddy rushes past everyone to go vomit, and none of the boys notice Kid Blink follow Kentucky to her room instead of joining them upstairs.

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 **A/N:** Feel free to drop a review if you have any constructive criticism! xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Look at me, updating two fics in a week! Been trying to work on more personal projects instead of grad school (despite the revisions with deadlines looming far too soon), because homework is kinda killin my vibe lately. So here is the next chapter of my Newsies friendfiction - hope you enjoy!

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The next morning, Kentucky wakes up early. First, to puke up her hangover, then to pack her schoolbag. She stuffs a skirt in next to books and pencils for after her papes are sold. On the days she and Georgia have school, they only have two hours between the distribution center opening at six in the morning and school starting at eight, so they have to spare any time they can. She rushes out the door with a purposeful glare at her typically signature bowler, instead tying her hair up in a messy ponytail.

She ends up intersecting with Mush Meyers at the front steps, throwing her arms around him with a "Mornin', sugar!" as they walk toward Greeley Square.

"Duchess! Wha'da'ya hear, wha'da'ya say?" Mush greets, grinning, then smacks a kiss against her temple.

One of the sweetest newsboys, or any boy, she'd ever met, Kentucky adored the dashing but naïve Mush. Like Racetrack, her relationship with him was more sisterly, though she frequently joked that no girl would ever be good enough for him so he might as well marry her. This was usually countered with a theatrical proposal – complete with crooning, swooning, and extremely bastardized Shakespearean verses – which always provided uproarious entertainment for friends and passing strangers.

"Where were you last night, Mush? It was barely a party without ya." Kentucky spots Georgia heading their way and waves her over. "An' you too! Charlie was lookin' for you."

Georgia laughs nervously. She's been avoiding Charlie a little bit—they've hung out a couple times since their last break-up, and she's started to think maybe the separation is finally permanent. While sweet and smart and generally a great guy, they're just headed in different directions…especially now that a new boy gives her butterflies. Not that she's told him or even Kentucky any of this yet.

Thankfully for her, Mush still answers that he'd already fallen asleep before party time, and Kentucky's attention turns to making fun of him for being an old man.

"What the hell?" Georgia is the first to spot the shouting and growling gathering of newsies crowded at the distribution center. The headline board is still being worked on, but none of the kids are even looking up. Instead, they stand around Kid Blink as he argues with Oscar Delancey. "What's goin' on?" She approaches Crutchy with the others on her tail.

"They jacked up the price, ten cents for a hundred," he explains. Their jaws drop, then start listening to Blink yell at Delancey, who is grinning ear to ear. The odious twerp then proceeds to mock Blink's outrage as he tells Jack the deal.

"This'll bust me, I'm barely making a livin' right now," Skittery complains around a cigarette. Kentucky's fingers itch, pulling an identical stick out of her breast-pocket along with a half-empty matchbox.

"I'll be back sleepin' on the streets," Boots adds, already sounding defeated. Kentucky's free hand starts to shake, so Georgia reaches down to hold it.

"It don't make no sense. I mean, all the money Pulitzer's making…why would he gouge us?" Mush looks to Crutchy, who just shakes his said.

"Cuz he's a tightwad, that's why!" Racetrack snarls, walking over to bum a puff off Kentucky as everyone grumbles. Jack tries to ask Weisel, seriously, about this development and only gets a mock back. Everyone glares at the man through the windows.

David and Les finally join their new friends and partners, and Georgia fills them in as Mush steps forward. "Jack, we got no choice, so why don't we get our lousy papes while they still got some, huh?" He is promptly shut down by Jack, and Les tries to clear some room for his idol to think. Blink steals Kentucky's cigarette from Race and hands it to Jack. She throws her hands up and plucks a new one, Race lighting it for her.

"Hey hey hey! _World_ employees only on this side of the gate!" Weisel barks, everyone shouting back.

"Well, listen. One thing fer sure, if we don't sell papes, then nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back ta where it was," Jack proclaims. David asks if he means a strike. "Yeah, like a strike. It's a good idea!" He argues when everyone grumbles and laughs at him.

David leans over Jack. "I was just joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union."

"But, if we go on strike, then we are a union, right?" Jack replies.

"No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money." Everyone in ear shot chuckles despite the truth of the statement. "Maybe if we got every newsie in New York, but..."

Jack stands, projecting his voice so everyone's attention is back on him. "Yeah, well we organize." He slings an arm around Crutchy, "you take up for collection. We get all the newsies of New York together." Crutchy replies with a "swell" and the boys follow Jack enthusiastically towards the gate.

"Jack, this isn't a joke. You saw what happened to those trolley workers," David reminds. Race, Blink, Mush, and the girls watch warily with him.

"Yeah, well that's another good idea. Any newsie don't join with us, then we bust their heads like da trolley workas." This gets the other boys pumped, filing out from behind David to the street. They circle in front of the statue of Horace Greeley. "Now listen, Dave's right," Jack calls to everyone. "I mean, Pulitzer and Hurst and all them other rich fellas…I mean, they own this city. So do they really think a buncha street rats like us can really make any difference? The choice has gotta be yours. Are we just gonna take what they give us, or are we gonna strike?"

A beat of silence, then little Les shouts, "Strike!" David quickly covers his litte brother's mouth, pulling him back. Georgia puts a hand on David's arm and Kentucky one on Les's shoulder. The newsies are excited though, and tell Jack to go on. He looks to David, and Georgia removes her touch. Jack doesn't notice the girls' discomfort, nor their shared look of trepidation as David feeds their leader words.

"Hey listen! Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect the rights of the working boys of New York!" At this, Kentucky straight up leaves, rounding the statue to march home. Georgia nearly follows her, but decides to let her cool off, and stays to listen to her boys' call-and-response. "Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothin'. Are we nothin'? –No!— Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us. Do they got us? –No!—"

Everyone shouts and cheers and gets on board to strike. Georgia has never seen them like this, all agreeing on something. She's the only one who notices the people around them though, the public eye staring at this whooping and hollering group of street kids. David has a point about their image, she thinks. People already look down on them, how are they going to make the bigwigs respect them?

"Okay, youse guys, you gotta be ambastards and go tell the othas that we're on strike." Jack assigns newsies to neighborhoods and boroughs to spread the word. Blink volunteers for Harlem, Race for Midtown, Mush for the Battery, and Crutchy the Bronx. Bumlets, Specs, and Skittery get assigned Queens, then Pie Eater and Snoddy and Snipeshooter to East Side. Staten Island is skipped in the call, but Georgia already knows she'll be asked to go. "So, what about Brooklyn? C'mon, Spot Conlon's territory."

Hesitation reigns, no one wanting to enter the infamous King of Brooklyn's side of the city. Brooklyn is actually one of Georgia's favorite parts of New York, and she considers her and Spot to be in respects, but she ducks her face like the surrounding boys.

No one knows she is one of the forty-some Birds, not even Kentucky. Her Manhattan friends would consider it the highest treachery. The job comes with some nice perks: the foremost being that no one dares mess with her when she enters Brooklyn, but also information can be traded for favors from both Spot and other Birds. Bringing news from Manhattan has gotten her free food, free booze, entry into shows, help when her glasses broke, help last winter when she was stranded in New Jersey, and even help for Kentucky to get her tailoring gig.

It's decided that Jack, Boots, and David will go to Brooklyn, then David insists Jack go take their demands to Pulitzer. He takes Les in with him to soften them up, and the newsies cheer and disperse, chanting "Strike! Strike! Strike!" Georgia rubs her head, she can't believe this is really happening right now.

"Hey, what strike? What's going on?" A new voice, older, cuts through the newsie noise. A man in a brown suit approaches David, who tells him what's happening. "I'm with the _New York Sun_. Bryan Denton," the man introduces himself. Georgia's eyes shoot up, but before she can get to David to tell him to not share anything with the press yet, Jack and Les are tossed out of the _World_ building.

This Bryan Denton offers to take the boys to breakfast to discuss the strike, and Georgia knows there's no way they'll heed her warning with free food at stake, so she inserts herself next to Jack and David. Jack, still oblivious to her caution, rests his elbow on her shoulder as they agree to go to Tibby's Restaurant. The group heads down the road and choose a booth near the window. Jack and Les slide into the corner seat cushion, leaving David and Georgia on the other side. Denton pulls up a chair at the end of the table.

Georgia sits quietly, trying to ignore that she's apparently skipping school today, as David explains the strike and Jack regales what happened in the _World_ building that got them thrown out. Denton listens in what looks like half interest, half amusement.

"Does he scare you? You're going up against the most powerful man in New York City."

Jack guffaws, "Oh yeah, look at me, I'm trembling." Georgia resists kicking him under the table.

Denton stands to leave, requesting to be kept in the loop. "Are we really an important story?" David asks him.

"Well, what's important? Last year I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Colonel Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story. So, is the newsie's strike important? That all depends on you."

That answer was a little too diplomatic for Georgia's taste. If this guy is for real, this could really take this strike thing onto another level. However, if Denton was actually just another newspaper jerk, this could ruin them in the eyes of the public. Could she afford to get wrapped up in this either way?

"So my name's really gonna be in the papers?" Jack calls out before Denton departs.

"Any objections?"

"Not as long as you get it right. It's Kelly, Jack Kelly. Oh, and Denton? No pictures." _Finally he says something smart_ , Georgia thinks.

Denton chuckles. "Sure, Jack." He throws some money on the table for their lunch and leaves.

"Jack, you really need to think this through," Georgia finally speaks her mind.

"What do you mean?" David answers for them.

Running her fingers over her skull, she elaborates, "What if this goes really sideways? Everyone could lose their jobs, their money, their homes. Have you really considered all the pros an' cons of this? That _Sun_ man could be takin' information back to the newspapers to fuck us over even more, did ya think of that?"

Jaw set and lips taut, Jack seems determined not to consider any of that thank-you-very-much. Les is the only one who looks chagrined. He picks at his food scraps.

"I think Denton is genuinely interested in us," David finally breaks the silence. "If this strike works, this could mean a lot for kids all over the city. Everyone seems ready to take the chance. No one will judge you if it's too risky for you, though, Anna. We understand it's a lot to take on."

Startled by someone using her given name, and with such caring sincerity and soft blue eyes, Georgia suddenly can't think of anything to say. Neither notice Jack's intrigued squint at them, nor conversely the frown edging his mouth down at the thought of not having her support.

She blinks herself clear again. "I don't know. I don't know yet. And I need ta talk to my mama, an' Kate…"

David's brow furrows; he hasn't heard of a Kate. "Is that Kentucky?"

A deep blush fills Les's cheeks. "Kentucky doesn't wanna strike?"

Georgia puckers at the glint in Jack's eyes. He expected Kentucky to be all in for this. He doesn't know the particular limitations she was working under, though, and Georgia isn't about to spill her best friend's secrets. So she steps around answering, only addressing David. "Yeah, Kentucky. Have you not met her?"

David shakes his head. "I only just saw her earlier, before the strike began, but not met. Why won't she strike?"

 _Damnit Davey_ , Georgia grumbles. She thinks back to earlier, when Kentucky had left, after Jack had specifically said working boys of New York. "It's harder for girls in this kinda life, David. We have to risk twice as much to do the same things. Kentucky pays double what the other newsies do to live at the Lodgin' House. Girls shelters are pricier, an' more restrictive. So are other jobs. Carryin' the banner is just about the only work in the city that pays girls the same as boys, everywhere else is less. And we're always in more danger, always. I mean, Kentucky can hold her own, don't get me wrong, but addin' this type of volatile situation in can be what finally makes it too unsafe for any girl."

The more she says, the more she realizes how this could go under for her too. They could face more unwanted attention than ever previously evaded if they participate in this strike, and they may not be able to handle it at this magnitude. Plus, with the futures they both strove for, this could be a huge obstacle, make them ineligible in the eyes of authority figures that could otherwise help them.

All three boys are stunned into silence. They'd never thought about the challenges their female counterparts had to deal with every day. Jack, especially, felt foolish. As the leader of the Manhattan newsforce, he's supposed to look out for every one of his cohort. Has there been times he's overlooked plights of the girls? Are there things he doesn't know?

"Okay," he resolves. "Youse goils only strike if you really want to, and we'll stick togetha. If it's too risky, dat's fine. We won't soak or judge or nothin'."

Georgia meets his eyes and nods her thanks, and he responds in kind. David and Les also nod their agreement, and suddenly feel like they have a fresh appreciation for Sarah as well. Georgia glances at the big clock hung on the opposite wall.

"I can still make my afternoon classes, so I'm gonna go. Good luck in Brooklyn, fellas."

David scoots out so she can exit the booth, holding out his hand for her. She takes it with a small smile, thanking him and hoping she's not blushing. Jack doesn't even try to hide his smirk.

On her walk to school, Georgia stops in a small bakery and orders a raspberry éclair from the blonde behind the counter. The shop girl hands her the treat in a brown sack. "That'll be your two cents."

"Manhattan is startin' a strike. The King should expect visitors."

* * *

When Kentucky left, she went straight back to her room and threw her school bag at the wall. She was definitely skipping school today. Instead, she scrounged for every last penny she had and stormed to Sheepshead. That's where Jack, Boots, and David find her, drunk and gambling all her money away, after they finish failing to convince Spot Conlon to join their strike.

They approach just as she loses another bet and chugs the entire rest of her beer. Older patrons near her make disgusted expressions, and Boots slides under her stein just before it shatters on the ground when Kentucky drops it without care.

"Kate." Jack is not happy.

"Cowboy," Kentucky sneers. She peers at the three with clear disdain, especially newcomer and, in her mind, instigator David.

"Kentucky, c'mon, let's go home," Boots urges, trying to draw her elbow.

"I dun hafta do nuthin'," she argues, Southern drawl pronounced in her intoxication. She crumples her losing tickets and tosses them at Jack's face. He rolls his eyes then scoops her up, tossing her over his shoulder. "Hey!"

David gawks at the display and tries to assure onlookers that everything's okay here, following them out until Jack dumps Kentucky on the street.

"Are there fucking rocks in ya head?" He glares down at her.

"Are there fuckin' rocks in _your_ head?"

"Kentucky, I don't have da patience for this bullshit. Get up, we're going back to Manhattan. You betta've not just wasted all ya money." He starts to march away, expecting compliance, and almost misses her mutter from the ground:

"Whadda you care?"

He puts his hands behind his head and walks slowly back to her. "Listen Duchess," both feel awkward at the address—they've never been close enough for him to call her that, "I know da strike is a lot to ask of youse, and you don't gotta do it. I won't make ya. But if you do join, we're gonna look out for one anotha, alright? And I'm tellin' you, we got what it takes to win an' make things betta for _all_ workin' kids of New York." He holds his hand down to help her up.

David and Boots swell with pride, but Kentucky's glare only turns sullen. She drops her gaze to the dirt. "That's mighty fine to hear, Cowboy," she wobbles to a stand on her own, "but I dunno. I wanna help y'all, I do, but I just dunno. Gotta talk to…" _my mother_ , she finishes inside.

"Anna, I know," Jack interprets. She lets him, nodding a fraction. "Just come back to Manhattan with us. You stink of beer."

At this, Kentucky crosses her arms over her chest and scowls, but tramps down the road regardless. Boots has to fetch her before she gets too far, steering her toward the actual direction of home. She steadfastly ignores her flub and the group heads back to the city together.

"How'd you numbskulls know where I was anyhow?"

"Spot said we might've lost somethin' down at the races," Boots admits. _Stupid Birds_ , Kentucky thinks.

"Hey, um," David falls back from Jack to walk in time with Kentucky and Boots. "We've never officially met. I'm David." He extends a hand to shake.

"Kentucky," she loosely shakes his hand, practically flinging him arm when she drops it away. She side-eyes him with a glassy gaze. "You have a thang for my Belle."

Both Jack and Boots bark out laughter, heating David's flush further. "Who said I have a—?!"

"Yer more obvious than the sun," she cuts him off. "An' rumor travels fast with newsies." She can practically feel Jack's mirth from ahead. "I dunno what you're smirkin' for, Cowboy. Talk's happenin' 'bout you and Davey here's sister, too."

Boots is losing it, and Kentucky thinks he's going to fall over after Jack flips her off. Not able to decide whether walking next to Jack or Kentucky is more uncomfortable, David speeds up just a tad so he's alone between them.

All the newsies are gathered in the Square when the group arrives back, asking how Brooklyn went. They don't like the news.

"Well, Jack, maybe we ought to ease off a little. Without Spot and the others, there ain't enough of us, Jack," Race suggests. Kentucky feels like a weight is lifted off her sternum, and goes to stand with her boys. She leans on Race, resting her now pounding head on his shoulder.

Mush agrees, "Maybe we're moving too soon. Maybe we ain't ready, you know?"

"I definitely think we should forget about it for a little while," Skittery adds. Not the most popular newsie, even he gets nods and mumbles of agreement.

Jack is outraged. "Spot was right, is this just a game to you guys?"

The group starts arguing, until David starts giving a speech about seizing the day. Maybe she's just still drunk, but even Kentucky has to admit how rousing his words are. _He certainly knows how to turn a phrase, no wonder Georgia made eyes at him_ , she ponders. All the boys are back on board now, and create a barricade before the distribution center.

The circulation bell rings. "Anybody hear that?" Jack calls. A resounding _No!_ in response. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

"Soak 'em!"

They swagger into the Distribution Center, cheering behind a group of scabbers lining up for papes. Kentucky follows them in but sticks close to the wall, behind the meager line. Crowding around to the front of the booth, they block the first boy just as he steps away with full arms. Jack stands in front of him, challenging and expectant. With the sound of Weisel urging the line down, the skinny newsboy drops his newspapers to the ground and shakes Jack's hand. David, Race, Blink, Boots, Mush, Specs, and all the guys clap and encourage him as he joins their ranks. The next two boys raise their hands up and enter the crowd without even purchasing anything. The third, however, tall and older, stares Jack right in the eye as he tries to pass with his stack. He butts between Race and Mush, and they push him back. Blink shoves him from the other direction. Snitch pulls around his back so he can't retreat to the window again.

Seeing where this is going, David tries to discourage Jack from starting a fight, but the Manhattan leader hits the boy's stack of papers to the ground. Expression ticked, the boy leans down to pick them up, but feints into pushing Jack back into the throng. The riot sparks.

Excited shouts fill the center as chaos erupts, newsies throwing newspapers and tomatoes all over the place. Jack even jumps up to make faces at Weisel and the Delancey brothers from the high window over the red booth doors. Growling, the brothers narrowly miss getting struck with fruit as they run out to fight newsies.

From her safe-spot on the wall, a still tipsy Kentucky laughs as a huge delivery cart gets overturned in front of her. Everyone is having a blast destroying the place. Through the revelry, she hears "I'm gonna crack your dome, maggot!" somewhere to her right. Her head whips in its direction. Only Morris Delancey calls them that. While Oscar tries to fight a stack of papers from Snipeshooter, Kentucky pushes onlooking Morris from behind. He rears back around, ready to hit whoever put hands on him, but smirks when he sees it's her. Her eyes are glazed and she looks utterly disheveled, tangled hair swept over one shoulder and gray shirt collar skewed. He spies the fading bites on her neck and his ugly grin widens.

His smug glee outrages her, and she shoves him again, this time to the floor. Her aim and strength are compromised by the alcohol still churning through her system, but her flurry of punches and slaps is merciless as she climbs on top of him.

Standing in the middle of the teenage tornado, with newsies joyfully tearing up everything in sight, Jack couldn't be prouder. He almost misses David tell him that they need to leave. The sound of police whistles breaks over the yelling. They start grabbing arms of anyone near them. "Hey, cheese it! It's the bulls!" Everyone starts running for the exit.

"Crutchy, scram! Scram!" Racetrack calls, pulling Kentucky off of Morris and out of the danger zone. They nearly bowl over Denton as the authorities gallop in.

The boy scrambles out of the paper pile towards the gates, but the police have made a blockade with their horses and he can't escape. Newsies shout after him but the Delancey brothers have already kicked his crutch away, and grab him under the arms. They drag him away out the back, out of everyone's sights.

"Everyone get back to the Lodging House," Jack spreads. The group disperses, seemingly in various directions so to evade any authorities that may follow. Jack pulled David and Les with him and Boots up a fire escape to take the roofs; Race, Blink, Kentucky, and Mush cut through alleyways; Skittery, Swifty the Rake, and Snipeshooter book it through the shops; Bumlets, Pie Eater, and Jake the Oyster zig-zag down another street; Dutchy, Itey, Snitch, and Snoddy narrowly escape by dodging behind an auto accident on the major crossroad. Like rats returning to nest, Manhattan newsies scuttle their way back home.

Jack, Boots, and the Jacobs brothers arrive back first. The latter three fall, out of breath, into seats at the mess hall tables. David rubs Les's shoulder, but he's not sure if it's to comfort his brother or himself. Jack can't sit nor sit still though, pacing the room with mounting anger. He let one of his men fall, the most sweet and pure-hearted one at that. How could he fail Crutchy like this?

He punches the wall just as Racetrack, Kid Blink, Kentucky, and Mush rush in, with Skittery, Swifty, and Snipeshooter on their tails. Kloppman hollers at Jack about property damage but is ignored by all. Everyone takes a few minutes to slow their hearts before muttering quietly, all contemplating their man-down. Finally Jack cools down enough to think properly.

"Don't worry, we're gonna get him back," is all he says, so attention lasts on him for only a moment before they go back to licking their wounds. He addresses only David now: "Take the kid home, an' meet me back here once it's dark out."

"What are we going to do?" David narrows his eyes at Jack but doesn't exactly protest. He pulls Les up towards the door.

"We're gonna get Crutchy back," he says again, clearly not going to elaborate. David just nods and takes Les out. When they hit the street, they nearly bump into Georgia as she heads inside.

"Oh, sorry! Hey, are you okay?" She takes in their messy, sweaty appearances, fingering the front fold of David's vest. She doesn't notice David taking her in as well—he'd seen her dressed as a newsie and dressed for performance, and found that her school attire was somewhere in the middle. Her uncapped hair is pulled back in a low bun, tendrils escaping from the front, and her regular cream tunic is accessorized with a long golden necklace instead of a vest. The crisp navy of her long skirt contrasts well against the brown and gray of the city around them.

"We soaked the Distribution Center. They took Crutchy," Les pipes up when his big brother seems unable to speak.

"Oh my god." Georgia pales. She doesn't need to ask what that means—if a streetkid is taken anywhere, it means the refuge. The jail and its odious warden, Snyder, are notorious to their kind; no one wants to end up there, with its shameless mistreatment of the children and expensive bail. She squares her shoulders. "So what's the plan?"

Her resolution startles David back to himself. "Jack seems to have one. I'm supposed to meet him back here after sundown."

Georgia nods. _They're going to break Crutchy out_. "Gotcha. Take Les on home, then. I'll see you later."

They bid each other goodbye, accidentally catching eyes when they take peek backs, and Georgia goes in to check on everyone. The newsies have already begun to disperse from the mess hall, going to their bunks upstairs or clustering with their closest friends. Jack, Boots, Race, and Kentucky sit tucked at a corner table in silence.

Plunking down beside Kentucky, she assesses the group. Kentucky reeks of beer and looks ready to pass out. Race and Boots look absolutely dejected. Only Jack has life in his eyes, but it's an angry, frustrated gleam. Without looking at her, Kentucky plops her head on Georgia's shoulder.

"I heard what y'all did today, what happened to Crutchy, an' what you're gonna do about it, and I support it all one-hundred percent. We are the newsies of New York, we are a team, a family, an' it's gonna be okay." Like given a mother's hug, each friend relaxes in their seat. She rubs Kentucky's back. "Come on, we're going to your room. You need a bath an' probably a thunk on the head for somethin'."

This wins her a weak smile from everyone, and Kentucky lets her lead her away to privacy.

* * *

 **x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x...**

 **A/N:** Please feel free to drop a review if you have any constructive criticism! xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** IT'S BEEN A LITERAL YEAR SINCE MY LAST UPDATE, I'M SO SORRY. And I bragged so much in my last Author's Note, lmao. I have a million very good excuses lol. But here is a new chapter, finally! And hopefully the next one will not take a fucking year again. Anyway, hope you enjoy this, sorry it's relatively short!

 **...x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x...**

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

.

Georgia waits on Kentucky's bed for her while she bathes in the small bathroom right across the hall. With everything that's happened today, she doesn't need to contemplate their next moves. They need to talk to their mothers, immediately. A headstrong businesswoman, Mrs. Ridgeland will certainly have intelligent insight on whether Georgia could be compromising her future if she strikes. Ms. Jakob, who lives by intuition and sensitive emotions, will probably have a long back-and-forth with Kentucky about what feels right versus logistical consequences.

The door clicks open and shut quietly, and Kentucky falls back onto the mattress in just a raggedy towel. Her eyes look exponentially clearer, completely sobered up now. Her voice, however, proves a little hoarse as she asks, "Can I come with you to Chelsea?" She wants to hear what pragmatic Mrs. Ridgeland has to say too, before going to consult her own touchy-feely mom.

"Yeah. You wanna get dressed so we can get goin'?"

"No, but I guess I will." Kentucky grunts as she stands back up, dropping the towel to the floor. Georgia rolls then averts her eyes.

The brunette dons a lilac shirtwaist with tight sleeves and a long maroon skirt, topping them with a brown corset-belt. This was her "fancy" outfit reserved for her twice-monthly visits to the Upper East Side. She brushes out the underlayer of her hair but pulls the rest up in a bun to save time. Once her boots are on, the two girls head out.

As they near the Ridgeland brownstone, Georgia pauses. "Okay. Before we get second-opinions, wha'd'you really think about all this? Because I think I'm fixin' to strike. I recognize the privilege I have to do that more safely, but I just don't feel like I can do nothin'. I'm gonna see if Mama thinks it's a bad idea, obviously, so even if I don't then I wanna support you if you do anyway. An' would want your support either way too." She fiddles with the golden chain of her necklace.

Kentucky heaves a sigh. "You know I've got yer back, through it all. I always want you safe an' happy an' healthy an' all that. Whatever you decide to do, I support you. I just…I'm so _angry_. I'm mad the rich and powerful treat us like dirt, I'm mad that the boys don't think before they do shit, I'm mad that I _have_ to think before I do shit… I do, I want to strike an' raise hell. But if it might expose my mom…"

The best friends clasp hands. "I understand. So, we'll always be good with each other, no matter what. Okay, let's get on with it." They hug, then complete their walk up to Georgia's apartment. Their four-person family resides on the ground floor, and a small, curly-haired white dog welcomes them at the front door. "Hi Scruffy," they coo.

They find Mrs. Ridgeland at the dining table, stacks of paper lined up in front of her. Her wispy blonde hair is swept away from her face, and she adjusts her spectacles as she looks up at them. "Afternoon, chickadees. What trouble are you two up to today?" Her molasses accent is warm and mischievous—one of the many things she passed down to Georgia, as well as a near-identical face

Each of them comes around to hug her, then seat themselves at the table. Georgia explains all about the strike, and their reservations about participating in it. "What do you think, Mama? To be up front, I'm leanin' towards doin' it."

Mrs. Ridgeland considers for several moments. "It's dicey business, darlin'. You won't have an income coming in, and it's not a flattering on paper. But high risk can reap high reward, as well. I'm proud of your moral ground here, your heart is in the right place." She points her stare. "Are you going to keep up at school even if you're on a protest?"

"I would argue that I could devote _more_ time to school while strikin'," Georgia counters.

"Well," her mother sighs, "you're going to do what you're going to do. You know the risks, so if it goes sideways, you know what the consequences are. Let me know if you need anything."

A smile peels Georgia's cheeks and she bounces up to hug her again. "Thanks, Mama. Your trust means a lot," she whispers.

Wanting to give the Ridgeland women their privacy, Kentucky blows them kisses and takes her leave. Mrs. Ridgeland squeezes her daughter's hand then turns back to the files before her. "I need to finish this up, angel-baby. You going back out?"

Georgia considers what's waiting back at the Lodging House. Jack's probably preparing for Crutchy's jailbreak, and everyone else recovering. She decides to head there later, around the same time as David. She needs time to think over how joining the strike will affect her studies and her Bird status. Especially if that Denton gets involved any further—Jack and David, for all the strong brain cells between them, prove to be rubbish at public relations. They will definitely need her help. "No, I'm gonna stick around a bit. Adam home from school yet?"

"In his room. Let him know I bought some mutton for supper."

"Yes, ma'am." Georgia moves further into the apartment, into the bedroom she and her younger brother share whenever she stays at home. She finds him winning a game of chess with himself. "Hey geek. How're you?"

"Uh, fine? Same as yesterday? Why do you look like someone just rang your passing-bell?" He frowns through his glasses at her pensive appearance.

She sighs, reclining on the bed opposite him. "The newsies are strikin'. Crutchy got arrested. It's kinda a mess right now."

"Whoa, wait, really? What's Cowboy gonna do?" Adam forgets his game, dropping his offensive rook on a random square.

His sister passes a glare at him. " _We_ are gonna get Crutchy back, and then get organized. This isn't just Jack's call, ya know. It's all of us, as a community. And David."

He doesn't miss the shift in her tone. "Oh, David? Dinner-at-his-house-last-night-David? How interesting. Intriguing, you might say. Fascinating, possibly—" a pillow to the face cuts him off.

* * *

In the Upper East Side, Ms. Jakob's governess duties end at suppertime. Kentucky arrives outside the affluent abode her mother works and lives in a little early, parking herself on the bench across the street. Since Ms. Jakob dines apart from her family of employment, the mother-daughter duo goes out to a restaurant whenever Kentucky visits.

After thirty minutes of preparing her talking points, Kentucky hears a faint tapping sound. Looking up, she sees her mother rapping on the third-floor window, smiling down at her and gesturing to give her a minute. Kentucky nods up at her, knots pretzeling in her stomach, then walks around to the nearby florist closing shop. If she hadn't spent all her money earlier on horses, she could've bought her mother some lilies.

"KayKay!" Ms. Jakob throws her arms around Kentucky, rocking her into a constricting hug. The older blonde is the only one who calls her that variation of her name, a nickname from infancy. "I miss you so much. Are you sure you won't just move in with me? We can make it work."

Like every time she asks—which is every time they reunite—Kentucky shakes her head, forcefully detaching from her mother. "No, Mom, it would _not_ work. And I like the Lodgin' House with my boys."

They stroll along the sidewalks arm-in-arm towards their usual spot. The tiny eatery, owned by a sweet family immigrated from China, operates on an alleyway courtyard behind an Italian restaurant. There are only four tables, and only one already occupied. Kentucky and her mother both order soup and rice, then Ms. Jakob fixes her daughter with squinted eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Sighing, Kentucky explains everything that's happening with the newsies right now and her frustrations with Jack. "It just…it could turn ugly, ya know? We gotta eat papes. Spot's refusin' to help. Crutchy's been taken to the Refuge. I can't…I can't let you get found out. The shit-talk about us both goin' to Hell was bad enough back in the South, but if your house-family gets wind, they'll fire and evict you and—notta be mean—ya wouldn't survive hustlin' on the streets like us."

Ms. Jakob smiles at her daughter. "Kate, don't worry about me. I'm not worried about me here. I'm your mother, it's _my_ job to worry _you_. But thank you for thinking of me, babe. And I'm sorry to hear about the boys being, well, boys. Are you making rent okay? We really can make it work if you need to stay with me."

"No, Mom, I'm fine on rent right now," Kentucky lied. She'll have to go to Sheepshead again sober to fix what she did to herself today. "What should I do, though? Do you really think we can change anythin'? Nobody cares about us."

"I think more people care than you give them credit for. If you'd feel safer not striking, then don't. But I think you can definitely change things, Kate."

Humming in response, Kentucky tries to find more distinct answers in her soup bowl. The duo talk about Ms. Jakob's going-ons for the rest of their time together, then Kentucky walks her mother home. Again the elder Jakob squeezes her daughter like a boa, and murmurs, "You'll do the right thing, KayKay. I love you."

"Love you," Kentucky whispers into her shoulder, then turns for home. The sun basks the sky in oranges as it sets, so the newsgirl speedwalks home. On her way she stops by Eliza's corner, finding the girl laughing with a couple gentlemen in dusty top hats. The call-girl waves the men away as soon as she sees Kentucky.

"Heya, Duchess! What brings you to my side of town at this hour? Aren't you usually getting off work?"

"Actually, we're on strike." _Oh shit, it's real if I say it out loud_ , Kentucky screams internally. Eliza pretends to have no idea, letting her friend inform her of the newsie situation, though she'd already been in the loop since this morning from her fellow Birds. Oblivious, Kentucky finishes her explanation, adding, "Hey, spread the word to the other workin' kids, yeah? It ain't just us that's strugglin' in this city. We have 'em in mind, too."

* * *

By the time Kentucky slinks into her bed back at the Lodging House, Jack is already leaving. With a thick coil of rope over his shoulder, Jack leads David and Georgia to the Refuge to rescue Crutchy. As they approach the prison, Jack sneers at the massive stone structure, "So here it is. My home sweet home." Georgia smacks him on the elbow.

"How can you be sure they brought him here?" David asks.

"How can I be sure the Delancey's stink?" Jack scoffs. "It's just how things work, you know? An orphan gets arrested, Snyder makes sure he gets sent straight here, so he can _rehabilitate_ him. The more kids in the Refuge, the more money the city sends to take care of them, the more Snyder sticks it in his pocket. He's here."

"A lot of good kids end up here for no reason, just so Snyder can make money off 'em," Georgia confirms. "They get treated like shit, too. Especially the black and brown kids. Less girls get put in, but most that do end up worse when they get out." All three newsies' tremble with anger at the injustices brought against the less fortunate kids of New York.

A charity carriage exits the Refuge, so the teens hide in the shadows. As the prison guard talks with the nuns aboard, the three sneak by and onto the executive fire escape to the roof. Once up there, Jack ties the rope around his waist and has the others lower him over the edge of the building.

When he gets level with the first window down, he shout-whispers up to them "Steady. Steady, guys. That's good." He knocks on the window, and a young boy opens it.

"Hey, Cowboy. You miss the joint?" The boy jokes.

Jack gives a short laugh. "Wha'd'ya say, Ten Pin. You got a new guy in here. Crutchy."

"The gimp? I'll get him for ya."

Hiding his stink-face at that term, Jack splits into a smile at the sight of their friend limping to the window with the help of another kid. "Hey, Crutchy."

The boy grins behind the window bars. "Jack, I don't believe it! What are you hangin' around here for?"

"What do you mean 'what am I hangin' around here for'? You know who's on the roof?"

"Who?"

"Dave and Georgia."

"Dave and Georgia, ya say! How ya doin'? Canoodlin' already?"

His raging blush hidden by the darkness, David can only shush him. Neither he nor Georgia can exchange glances, each hoping the other doesn't notice their red faces. Below, Jack tries to convince Crutchy to escape with them, but he's hurt too bad from the Delancey brothers and refuses to be carried. Instead, he calls up to David. "Hey, Dave! Y'know, they still talk about how Jack rode outta here on that coach!"

"Oh, yeah. Teddy Roosevelt's, right?" David rolls his eyes, but his mirth falters when Georgia smirks at him and Crutchy exclaims that he must've already heard the story. "You mean it's true?!"

"Of course!" Suddenly the kids inside are aflutter. "Hey! Cheese it!"

Jack swings to the side and out of sight, holding onto the bars of the next window over, just as Warden Snyder enters to inspect the room. He signals for David and Georgia to pull the rope up while Crutchy distracts Snyder, and the three rush back to the fire escape. As soon as they're clear of the building, Jack kicks at the dirt on the road. "He can't stay in there, not like that."

"He'll be okay, Jack," Georgia comforts, resting a hand on his shoulder. "A charmer like him? He'll have them eating out of his hand." She gets a half-smile and nod for her effort.

"Thanks for comin' out with us, Davey," Jack claps the other boy on his back. "I'll walk Geor—"

Before he can finish, David takes a chance. "Why don't I walk Anna home?" He doesn't miss a beat, trying to come off casual. "You probably need to let the guys know that Crutchy won't be coming home for awhile. And it's on my way, anyway," he says, despite having no idea where the she lives.

A real smile, really more a smirk, edges Jack's lips and he nods. "Yeah, yeah, good idea, Davey. I'll see you two bright and early." He tries to catch Georgia's eye to wink at her, but she purposefully turns so they can't make eye contact. "G'night, loveboids!"

Their friend jogs away, leaving no room for retort. David clears his throat awkwardly. "Um, sorry about that. I hope it's alright if I walk you home? Not that I think you can't take yourself, I just—"

"No, no, it's very gentlemanly, I like it." Sucking in a breath, she loops an arm into his. The last time she was this nervous around a boy was when she first ferried with Charlie to Staten Island. Thinking back, though, he hadn't offered to accompany her back to the city after that date. She peeks through her lashes at her current crush. He was distinctly looking ahead as they walk, but the corners of his mouth were raised into a small smile. "I live in Chelsea, by the way. Not exactly on your route home."

"It's no problem." He bites the inside of his cheek so that his grin doesn't grow too much.

They walk in comfortable silence for most of the way, until David clears his throat again. "So, I met Kentucky officially today. She's…interesting. How did you two end up with the newsies?"

Georgia chuckles, only imagining how that interaction must've gone, judging by the fact her friend was majorly drunk today. "To make some money while we go to school. Kate can't live with her family, and my dad can't work 'cause of a war injury. We have other jobs, too. Well, as you saw, at Medda's."

"You're a great performer." David lights up at the memory, but tries to school himself quickly. "I heard from Sarah that you want to travel after school. Where do you want to go?" Realizing that they're nearing her neighborhood, he slows his pace slightly.

While she notices, she doesn't say anything about it, just slows in kind. "Everywhere. Italy, Morocco, Australia…first I'll probably go with Jack to Santa Fe, though." David visibly deflates. It's like his stomach fills with charcoal, and he nearly stumbles at the weight sinking to his knees. Realizing his assumption, she quickly readjusts her words. "Just to see it! And check that Cowboy isn't causin' too much mischief! But then leave him there like a sack of crazy potatoes!"

This gets a hearty laugh, and the color returns to David's cheeks. Misunderstanding averted, they gab about their respective goals and ambitions the rest of the way to Georgia's home. Even when they reach their destination, they stand outside another ten minutes, just talking and connecting. At last, Georgia has to stifle a yawn.

"I didn't mean to keep you so late, Anna, I'm sorry." He rubs the back of his neck. "I really like talking to you."

Butterflies flutter inside her. "Me, too. I'll see you in the morning, Davey." Taking a chance, she leans up and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, rushing inside immediately after so she can't catch his reaction. If she had, she would've seen gleaming eyes and a silly grin worn all the way home.

* * *

 **...x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x...**

 **A/N:** Please drop a review with any constructive criticism!


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